Qigong: The Art of Letting Go

Qigong: What is it? Why should you do it? How do you do it? If these are questions you have, well hoo-doggy, are you in for a treat, because this article takes a deep dive into the practice of Qigong.

(Be sure to check out my online course Elemental Movements for more. And simply click here for a free Qigong instructional video!)

Let’s start with the basics: “Qigong” (pronounced chee-gung) can be translated as “working with Qi”; “cultivating Qi”; or “the skill gained through cultivating Qi.” (I’ve already explored the concept of Qi in a previous article; click here if you’d like to check that out.)

Through postures, movements, breath-work, and awareness, Qigong helps our bodies and minds work more efficiently. It benefits our balance, stamina, coordination, and strength, as well as our capacity to relax. On a deeper level, it enhances the quality and circulation of our Qi; upgrades our organ functioning; and amplifies our embodied awareness.

In The Way of Qigong, Ken Cohen writes:

Qigong…is a systematic training in psychophysiological self-regulation. It teaches us to deal intelligently with stress, to keep the body relaxed and supple and the internal energy strong and healthy, and to develop skills to regulate the health, balance, and movement of healing energy in the mind (“psycho”) and body (“physiological”). The world may not be peaceful, but we can do much to create peace within. (11)

So, Qigong supports our physical health and our mental-emotional regulation. To get these results, the practice certainly requires a bit of discipline and perseverance. But! It helps that Qigong is often just flat-out fun.

Qigong gives us a sandbox to play in, where we can be lighthearted and childlike and spontaneous. We can move like animals and grow roots like plants. Qigong provides a pathway toward our “original selves”—who we are “underneath” all of our acquired stories and strategies and tensions. Qigong softens the hardnesses we’ve accumulated. It invites us to take off our armoring. It opens us up.

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Qigong originated thousands of years ago with the exercises of Chinese shamans/sorcerers/wizards/witches/spirit-mediums called the Wu (巫). Qigong exercises were done to facilitate the process of “Neigong” (“Inner Work/ Cultivation/Development/Skill/Quality”).

“Neigong” refers to the series of changes the body undergoes when trained according to the Daoist path—using particular Qigong standing techniques and movement exercises, which eventually give way to seated meditation practices. So, Neigong is the process of change we move through, while Qigong is a tool we use to activate that process.

The earliest Qigong exercises seem to have been animal dances. Animal motifs recur throughout Qigong history, with styles like Bathing Duck, Leaping Monkey, and Flying Crane. Through our Qigong practice, as Cohen says, “we hope to embody the health, hardiness, and vitality of the animals” (14).

Qigong grew into a systematic art form during China’s Warring States period (476-221 BC). Today, there are many, many types of Qigong, with varying intentions. Some people practice Qigong for their physical health; some practice for their spiritual cultivation; and some practice as a component of their martial arts (combat) training.

Note that Taiji (aka Tai Chi or Tai Chi Chuan) falls under the umbrella of Qigong. Taiji features complex choreography and precise movements. The forms of Taiji are among the 7,000 or so Qigong forms practiced throughout the world today.

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At the core of all types of Qigong are three touchstones: (1) the body; (2) the breath; and (3) the mind. With practice, we regulate each of these domains. Let’s start by exploring the body.

In Qigong, we might be standing relatively still; moving about; sitting; or even lying down. The most fundamental Qigong posture is standing. As Cohen writes, “All Qigong techniques are based on the Qigong stance. Like a musical composition, the stance is the theme, and the other Qigong movements are the variations” (87).

Given its central importance, let me walk you through some of the basic pointers for assuming the standing pose. (Note that I spend a lot of time in Elemental Movements elaborating on these instructions.)

• Start by noticing your feet and their connection to the earth; let the feet be flat on the ground, and roughly shoulder-width apart; toes are directed forward.

• Distribute your weight evenly over the entirety of your feet. (You can rock forward and backward, and side to side, to feel for this evenness.) Give special attention to the pads of the feet; this region is called “Bubbling Spring.” Let the long bones of the pads of the feet gently spread, so as to enhance your connection with the earth below.

• Now bring your attention to the crown of your head. Let the crown of the head be ever-so-lightly pulled upward. You’re letting the skull “float” off the spine, like a hat being gently lifted off a rack.

• Slightly tuck the chin; close the lips; softly touch the tongue to the roof of the mouth; and breathe through the nose (unless that’s impossible for you).

• Eyes can be opened with a soft gaze or they can be closed.

• Let the back of the neck lengthen very gently, as if the whole spine is being slightly stretched.

• Let the chest and shoulders be soft and relaxed. This is not a military pose! You’re not pulling back the shoulders and puffing out the chest. Just let the chest and shoulders fall downward.

• Let the shoulder blades sink downward and laterally (away from the spine), and let the back stretch open.

• Your arms can relax by your sides, palms facing backward, with a slight gap between the arms and the sides of your body (as if there’s an egg nestled in your armpit).

• Relax the belly, lower back, waist, hips, and butt. Let the breath fill the lower belly.

• The pelvis is a bowl—explore tipping that bowl forward and backward and side to side; find a pelvic orientation where you’re not tensing, where you’re grounded yet open (especially in the groin and sacral area, which are regions we tend to tense). Let the tailbone sink downward toward the earth.

• Slightly bend the knees; let them face the same direction as the toes; make sure the knees are not collapsing inward; engage the inner thighs.

• As you stand there, you want it to feel like you’re about to sit down; imagine there’s a stool behind you. You’re not outright squatting; rather, you’re simply engaging your pelvis and legs as if you’re about to take a seat on that stool.

Good! Simply let your feet take the weight of your body. This might feel awkward at first, but, when our posture allows for our bones to smoothly stack atop one another, the feet are perfectly capable of receiving the weight of the body.

In the standing position, the joints are never straightened; they’re kept open and soft and fluid, allowing for smooth flow. We open and relax the muscles, the tendons and ligaments, the nerves, and even the bones themselves. The spinal column is upright and slightly stretched open, and yet this is fluid and flexible, not rigid or forced. You can imagine one string gently tugging the tailbone downward and another string softly pulling the crown of your head upward, elongating the spine.

(Note that if, for whatever reason, you cannot do the Qigong stance, you can simply apply its principles to a posture you can comfortably inhabit, such as sitting in a chair or even lying down.)

So… that’s the gist of the Qigong standing pose! Pretty simple, right? Well, it’s simple but not necessarily easy. Just do it for a few minutes, and you’ll likely start to notice that your body and/or mind are having some difficulty feeling relaxed. No problem, that’s normal…it’s all part of the practice!

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The standing pose gives us the opportunity to develop a relationship with an energy hub in the lower abdomen called the “Lower Dantian.” The Lower Dantian is our true center, the root of our being, where our power lies. As we “awaken” and “consolidate” the Lower Dantian, it becomes our Qi reservoir; by accessing this treasure, we can learn how to circulate its jewels throughout the body, vitalizing our system.

When you engage the Lower Dantian, your center of gravity descends. And that’s a good thing! We tend to be top-heavy, with all our activity happening above the diaphragm. We over-use our chest, shoulders, neck, and jaw…as well as our brain. The tissues of our upper body become tensed and knotted, which traps energy in this region, and this uncomfortable situation is exacerbated by the habit of over-thinking. We end up being disconnected from our lower half. Developing the Lower Dantian helps rectify this imbalance.

Instead of listening to our lower half only when we’re hungry or sexually aroused or in need of elimination, we can start to actually reside in this domain. Spending time in our lower body is, in itself, healing. Governed by the Kidney organ system, the lower body is linked to the Water element in Traditional East Asian Medicine. Water corresponds with our will power, strength, and wisdom. It’s where our “gut feelings” emerge from, the home of our “enteric brain,” with its many millions of neurons and its vital neurotransmitters and neuropeptides. And the lower body is how we connect with the earth, how we feel grounded, rooted. So, given all these benefits, it’s useful to get familiar with this area of our body!

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How we breathe can help us in this process of lowering our center of gravity. Indeed, the breath is a central component of Qigong. In fact, one translation of Qigong is “working with the breath.” An ancient name for Qigong is Tu Gu Na Xin, which can be translated as “expelling the old, drawing in the new.” Reminds me of respiration!

Qigong breathing is primarily done through the nose (unless that’s impossible for you). Breathing this way allows us to connect our tongue to our upper palate, which links our front midline channel (called the Ren or “Conception” channel) with our back midline channel (the Du or “Governing” channel). And nose-breathing helps to filter, warm, and moisten the incoming air.

As we breathe, we want to develop five qualities: quiet (inwardly and outwardly); deep; tranquil; unhurried; and soft. These qualities are sequential; one leads to the other. So, start simoply be letting the breath be quiet; let there be a quality of “inward listening” as you breathe. At the same time, let the breath be “natural”—that is, don’t over-control it; forcing the breath to be a certain way will just create more tension.

Most people breathe with their chests. Their breathing is quick and shallow. If you ask them to take a deep breath, they’ll hike up their shoulders and take a short, rapid breath. This type of breathing is called “thoracic breathing,” and it puts stress on the scalene and sternocleidomastoid muscles—neck muscles that are not intended to play such a prominent role in respiration. It’s an inefficient way to breathe. Shallow breathing is associated with neck pain, anxiety, asthma, and high blood pressure, among many other problems.

In Qigong, instead, we gradually cultivate diaphragmatic breathing. The belly naturally starts to play a bigger role in the breathing process. The breath is filling and pushing the belly in every direction: forward, backward (toward the sacrum), to the sides, downward, and even upward.

This type of breathing helps to promote circulation; to massage our squishy internal organs; to regulate the emotions; and to immerse our awareness in the tissues of the body. And, importantly, diaphragmatic breathing brings us into fuller contact with the Lower Dantian; it “primes the body’s major energetic pump” (Cohen, 124).

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So, by now you have some sense of what to do with your body and breath while in Qigong standing pose. Now, what do you do with your mind?

Well, I’ve already mentioned that you can link your awareness to your Lower Dantian. And you can also keep your mind engaged by “hunting out” the correct postural alignments, making increasingly subtle adjustments. Beyond these beneficial mental habits, you can train your mind to “sink.”

By “sinking,” I mean that you’re descending your awareness from head to toe. You start at the crown of your head, and you slowly move downward. As you sink in a horizontal band, notice anywhere that feels tense, contracted, or otherwise out-of-sorts, and invite those places to relax, open, flow. Once you reach the bottoms of your feet, you can start again at the top.

(If you’re not noticing any tension in your body as you sink your awareness, just wait. Gravity will eventually show you where things get stuck!)

As we let our awareness sink from top to bottom, our body start to unwind on its own. We start to “release” all of our various "Qi gates”—these are hubs (often joints) where our flow can get obstructed. These impediments start to “melt,” like ice becoming water, and “dissolve,” like water becoming vapor.

This practice of sinking and allowing the body to unwind is an art form that is honed with practice and patience. It’s the art of letting go. Through sinking, we become rooted, connected, resourced, and embodied.

And I want to be clear here that “sinking” here does not mean “collapsing.” In English, “sinking” is seldom used in a positive light—we have phrases like “a sinking ship” and “my heart sank” and “sink or swim.” But in Chinese, “sinking” means “to drop down in a deep, even profound way,” and suggests power and wisdom.

As we’re sinking our awareness, we’re attending to all of our various parts. And that’s what Qigong is all about: attention. Attention is inherently nurturing; it’s life-promoting. By “turning the light around” and attending to our inner aliveness, we start to develop a “felt sense” of our physical body, which progresses to feeling our “Qi body.” (And at the further stages of the Neigong process, we’re feeling and transforming mental and even spiritual “bodies”.)

When we’re feeling our aliveness, we start to recognize where we’re resisting and we can practice letting go. This practice opens us up to “sparks” of connection, awe, gratitude, and creativity. We feel like we’re in the flow. We can start to regularly experience a “smile of the heart” (even when things aren’t necessarily going our way).

It might initially feel odd to be immersing your mind in your body while exercising. In our culture, people often use exercise as a way to disengage from their experience. They “check out” on their devices while they’re lifting weights or running or cycling. However, Qigong is a tool we use to deepen our capacity to stay present and engaged. We’re learning how to remain embodied, even in the midst of mental and physical activity.

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With the standing pose as our “home base,” we can build a repertoire of Qigong practices, using a great variety of postures, movements, breathing patterns, and mental formations. We can choose to strengthen, purge, or regulate our organ networks and their corresponding tissues simply through how we’re aligning, moving, breathing, and using our minds.

As Cohen writes, “At the level of body-knowing, we know the difference between healthy and diseased qi and can train ourselves, through Qigong, to sense this more accurately” (44). Indeed, as our training develops, Qigong helps our bodies and mind work more and more efficiently; it promotes the smooth circulation of all our inner “stuff,” including our blood and lymph, so that our organs and glands can let go of the old and receive the new. Qigong is more than just exercise—it truly is a healing discipline. And yet, as I said at the top…it’s also fun!

I invite you to establish your own daily Qigong routine, perhaps at sunrise (to awaken and invigorate) or sunset (to close down your day); it can be especially nourishing to do it outside in nature. And remember to check out my Qigong course Elemental Movements.

It’s so cool that Qigong can be practiced at any time and in any place. As long as you have a body, some breath, and a mind, you’re equipped! It can be done while in line at the store, while driving, while lying in bed…Your life can become your Qigong. That’s a beautiful thing!